


short prayers, silent hopes

by angels_play



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i tried okay, just a short lil drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angels_play/pseuds/angels_play
Summary: There was far too much red in Ezio Auditore’s life. Treason, the robes of an assassin, blood on his hands, the clothes of Umberto Alberti, wounds, revenge. They were all red, all not wanted. There was only one thing red in his life he loved and cherished.Leonardo da Vinci’s red cape.





	short prayers, silent hopes

He dragged his leather-bound feet across the street, each step a challenge, a deeper and more hollow breath taken. Only few metres left. He could already see the door to his shelter, he could already see the blue eyes that would welcome him home with an eternal smile trapped in them. He was already in the arms he so longed for, and the genius, the mastermind that these belonged to was already there, by his side.

Two more steps and he would have all of this.

The wounds in his chest were throbbing, fresh blood staining his white robes with every move, his vision swimming in oceans he did not know of. Thick, red liquid kept dripping from the cut in his temple, covering his eyebrow and making him see red and red only.

There was far too much red in Ezio Auditore’s life. Treason, the robes of an assassin, blood on his hands, the clothes of Umberto Alberti, wounds, revenge. They were all red, all not wanted. There was only one thing red in his life he loved and cherished.

Leonardo da Vinci’s red cape.

One more step.

His legs were shaking, his stained and calloused hands reaching towards the door. The hour was late, somewhere in the middle of the night. The moon had hid herself from the horrible sight of the assassin struggling to keep his head above the water, and Ezio was thankful for that. He was one with the darkness, no one to see him knocking on the artist’s door. No one to link the two and put Leonardo in danger.

Ezio leaned on the door, his body supported only by the wooden frame. He knocked silently, splaying out his hands on the surface, hoping Leonardo heard his faint sign.

“Leonardo…” A barely audible whisper escaped his lips, the name uttered like a prayer, like the name of a saint. Ezio formed a fist and banged on the door with the strength he had left. His vision went out of focus, the world only a blur of colours and shapes. His legs started to give in, the assassin ready to meet the ground in a painful, but not entirely unwelcome, faint.

And then the door opened.

“Ezio? What are you…” Leonardo started, but then his eyes drifted to the small puddle of blood that had formed underneath Ezio’s feet, and then they darted to the red of the assassin’s robes. He looked at his friend in horror, eyes wide and terrified.

Ezio could have sworn he saw the sky in them, that it was day already, that all this pain was gone.

“Leonardo…” Here came the whisper again, silent and soft, relieved. The prayer was heard. The saint was there.

Ezio lost his balance and swayed forward, his feet slipping from underneath him. Leonardo caught him in his arms, in the same arms that cradled him when his brothers and father were hanged, the same arms that held him through his nightmares.

Ezio could feel he was being guided somewhere. His body followed the movements of Leonardo’s, the artist’s hand placed firmly on his side, the assassin’s arm thrown over Leonardo’s shoulders. He dragged his feet, barely having the strength and mind to do just that, having to remind himself not to just collapse onto the wooden floor of the _bottega _.__

__His mind kept wandering, swaying. Going out of focus. He only registered a small figment of the world around him, like Leonardo’s voice calling his name over and over again, one “Ezio!” after another, from time to time interrupted by _“Cazzo!” _or _“Mio Dio!” _. Leonardo sounded like he was bargaining with someone, bargaining for Ezio’s life with every bit of air he had in his lungs._____ _

______The next thing Ezio felt was something soft beneath him. Then Leonardo’s cold hands all over his robes, one layer off, two down, only his shirt left, and then his chest was bare. He could feel the cold air pricking at his skin. Then he heard Leonardo gasp, he could tell his friend was crying. He wanted to speak, he wanted to say “Don’t cry, _amico mio _, I’ve had worse.”, but his mouth was dry and full of iron, and he felt like he didn’t have control over his own body.___ _ _ _ _ _

________The last thing he remembered was Leonardo’s choked voice, his calling, his own prayer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________And then darkness descended upon him, swallowing him whole._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Leonardo didn’t have time to notice Ezio had lost consciousness. He was too busy crying out his name, he was too busy trying to see anything through the veil of tears falling from his eyes, too busy with desperate attempts to stop the bleeding._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Ezio’s chest was marred with three deep cuts. When Leonardo first saw them after he got rid of the robes, he had to hold down a scream. Intrusive thoughts kept running through his mind, thoughts like “You’ll lose him this time.” and “He won’t survive this.”. Leonardo kept screaming over them, trying to silence them, screaming Ezio’s name time and time again, the name like a bargain rolling out of his mouth, “Please let him live, I beg of you.”, his name he’d rather scream in completely different circumstances, completely different lives._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He started cleaning the wounds with a cloth soaked in alcohol, trying to focus on what he was doing, his mouth still uttering sentences at random, like it was an entity of its own, preoccupied only with one name. The white cloth quickly took on a red colour, as did the next one, and the next one, and Leonardo’s freckled hands, and the sheets of his bed. The bleeding didn’t seem to stop, and the silence of the _bottega _kept being disturbed by his desperate voice, his desperate prayer.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And then the bleeding finally did stop. The white cloth stopped taking on a red colour and Leonardo could breathe again. He stitched the wounds, bringing the fractured skin together, and then bandaged Ezio’s abdomen the best he could. He then moved to his face. He cleansed the cut on the assassin’s temple, the adrenaline slowly wearing out, the prayer turning into a love confession. He removed the robe from under Ezio’s body and threw it to the ground. He would have to put a lot of work to make it clean again, but that would come later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Leonardo kneeled down by his bed and took Ezio’s hand in his own. His friend, his love was going to be okay. He would need to stay in bed for a few days, but he would be fine, and Leonardo would take care of him. Like he always did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The artist splayed out on the edge of the bed, still holding on to the hand of the assassin. He laid his head on his free arm, facing Ezio, looking at his now peaceful features. His hair tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon, now slightly messy, his Roman nose and then his lips with the scar he adored. Leonardo found this blemish wonderful, a reminder of a different life, a past life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Leonardo drifted to sleep slowly, not leaving his post by the bed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***  
Ezio woke up to an ache all over. His muscles were sore, his abdomen hurt like hell and his head was pounding. He opened his eyes slowly and let out a barely audible grunt. He dragged his hand across his face and eyes, turning his head and that’s when he saw and remembered. He saw Leonardo, his upper body flat out against the side of the bed, his hair in disarray, a pile of rags and a bowl of pink water right next to him. He remembered what happened last night, the struggle to get to the bottega, and then being dragged to the bed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ezio smiled lovingly. No matter what time he came, and how bad the state he was in, Leonardo was always there to pick him up. He squeezed Leonardo’s hand with his own._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Thank you, _amico mio _.” He said, his voice a coarse whisper.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Ezio wished he had not been an assassin. He wished his father and brothers were still alive, his mother was able to talk, for his hands to be clean of the blood he had shed in his search for vengeance. He wished for all of that, for a different life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________But if there was one thing, one person who made him happy with the life he led, made him free from regrets, his name was Leonardo da Vinci. And oh dear God, did Ezio love him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by this (http://rebelflet.tumblr.com/post/155034764225/love-them) wonderful fanart (i can’t link it to save my life)
> 
> i jumped so late on that ship


End file.
